


Doubt Comes In

by Axella779



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, I had a beta and I would die for her, Illustrated Fic, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Introspection, M/M, Mutual Pining, Some Fluff, The canon splits off for a hot second then rights itself by the end, episode 159 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axella779/pseuds/Axella779
Summary: Jon makes a deal with Peter to walk out of the Lonely with Martin. Martin considers not going with him.(Illustrated Fic)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Doubt Comes In

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you @steviekat for beta-ing. I adore you <3
> 
> Just a little canon divergence fic, the canon just sorta forks then comes back together by the end.
> 
> Some of the interlude dialogue is taken directly from 159.
> 
> Some Hadestown inspo, but its not necessary to be familiar with the musical while reading. All illustrations by me, I might stick them up on tumblr later.

[Part 1: Orpheus]

Jon stands on the empty beach, unsure what to do next, waiting to see if Martin will appear. Minutes pass in silent doldrums on the endless shoreline. He begins to worry that maybe it had been a trick to keep him here after all. Then he hears Peter’s voice echo a commanding “Go _.”  _ The winds immediately pick up again.

Shocked into momentum, Jon takes a few steps backward before turning, beginning the walk through the sand back to the exit. 

_ Where is Martin?  _

He sees the path made by his previous trail of footprints, somehow undisturbed by the squall. But he hasn’t seen or heard any sign of Martin. His gaze sweeps over his immediate surroundings.

“I’m here Jon,” he thinks he hears Martin’s voice carried on the wind. 

Only a couple of steps in, he stops to look around again, to look behind him. Grey waves roll menacingly but never quite crash to shore.

It sounds so distant, but logically he knows Martin can’t be that far if he saw Jon look around for him. He has to trust that Martin really is there following him, but he wishes he could call out to him for  the  reassurance of it. He won’t risk it on a gamble, that Peter will follow through on his threat and keep Martin after all. Or that Martin isn’t actually there to begin with. There’s too many factors at play. He knows the dangerous routes paranoia leads the mind down, so he needs to believe that Peter will be true to his word. That Martin is following behind. He’ll allow himself to believe it for now.

_ *** _

He thinks back to the tapes, when he first learned about Martin’s supposed feelings. He had simply dismissed it as office gossip at first, very unlikely to be true anyways. But it had planted the seed of  _ what if _ . 

Martin would drop off tea, sometimes biscuits, in his office. Back when Jon was still suspicious of everyone close to him.  _ What were Martin’s true motives?  _ Jon still hadn’t really known him back then, didn’t understand (like he does now) that Martin’s actions came solely from the goodness of his heart. But Jon was a researcher by observation first and foremost, and after his mind had exhausted the more morbid options it would circle around to the gentler possibilities of  _ what if _ .

_  
What if the tea and handmade shortbread aren’t poisoned? What if he took his break in my office because he really did just want to chat? What if he meant it when he said he was worried about me?  _

The latter somehow seemed more absurd than the poison risk at the time. Jon knew he came off as unlikeable at the best of times , intolerable prick at the worst [of times], or so he’d been told. The idea that Martin was “concerned” about him without any other motive appeared highly suspect. He was clearly trying to get close to Jon for nefarious purposes. 

He was wrong.

The crippling paranoia eventually gave way for more pressing matters of  a  murder accusation and further afield research into the Entities. 

Jon returned changed, in some ways better, but definitely worse for wear. But the damage had already been dealt in his relationships with his colleagues and he knew it would take time to bridge the rift he put between himself and them, but he tried. He really did try. It never quite healed between Tim and himself, and it still cuts him deeply knowing that Tim probably didn’t like him much up until the bitter end. Jon knew he definitely deserved the spite directed at him, so he carries that regret in contrition. 

But Martin had been ready to accept a penitent Jon and so he made the effort at actual friendship. The tea breaks spent together in his office no longer carried an air of suspicion.

Retrospectively, he appreciated and recognized much too late Martin’s actions for what they were: genuine selfless concern, whether he deserved it or not. Even if Martin hadn’t said it then, Jon realized that it must be the way Martin showed his love. 

_ Not just office gossip after all. _

It still confused him, being the centre of those attentions. But he was starting to warm to it. 

It may have been in compensation for that, that Jon made him stay behind during the Unknowing, hoping to keep Martin safe. It was then that Jon realized the extent of his own feelings, although they had definitely been there brewing below the surface for some time before [then]. 

Martin had come to him to question  that decision. He wondered if Jon was leaving him behind because he still didn’t trust him. Because Jon still viewed him as incompetent.

_ It's because I love you. And I don’t want to lose you before I’ve earned your love in return.  _

He doesn’t say it.

Of course Jon would throw his love at the only person to show him even a scrap of kindness even after his many transgressions. Ultimately, it was a purely selfish move on his part. One that perhaps even contributed to Tim’s loss. But he can’t afford to ponder that  _ what if _ .

The entire plan had gone awry but the ritual was still successfully stopped and Jon died but came back, again irreparably changed. 

***

He doesn’t know how long he walks for, fighting against the wind. It’s cold, and true to its name, he is lonely. Thankfully, the fog that had begun to cloud his mind on the initial journey is no longer affecting him. He probably has his Patron to thank for that, the overwhelming forgetfulness seems counterintuitive to the Eye’s purpose, even if the feelings of detachment were not. 

He is more concerned about its effect on Martin, it had clearly begun to take hold long before he was cast into the Lonely. In the previous months, Jon had picked up that Martin had something planned even if he didn’t understand it to its full extent. But the whiplash at the sudden change in him had affected Jon more than he had expected it to. He missed Martin like a phantom limb. Just as he’d learned to stop taking his presence for granted, Martin had isolated himself from Jon. At first he had thought it was solely Peter Lukas’s doing, but the times Jon had sought him out, he was pushed aside, seemingly, with genuine want to get away from him. Moreover, Martin’s willingness to stay here has him distressed.

_ Where are you Martin? _

He hasn’t seen another soul since the beach. Jon casts out his mind trying to feel for something, for anyone. He thinks he might feel Peter off in the distance, back the way he came, but there is no one else. What if Martin is still back there on the shore? Did Peter even tell him to follow Jon? 

_ What if he thinks I left him? _

***

He wonders how many times Martin would be able to forgive the abandonments. Different versions of Jon always leaving him and never returning. With his last resurrection, he thought that this time might be the final straw. He didn’t necessarily expect the warmest reception upon his return to work, but he also didn’t foresee the cold shoulder he received from Martin. Any hope at something between them seemed to have died with the last of his supposed humanity, and Jon knew it was his fault he hadn’t examined and made his feelings known sooner. 

But Martin left him clues to his real motives for working with Peter Lukas and that flutter of hope in his chest kept him going. He listened to the recordings and understood that Martin had a plan laid out. Occasionally, shortbread still appeared on his desk. Even the tape recorders left atop the coffin. Jon suspected, just like his rib, that maybe they weren’t the real anchor he followed out of the Buried. Martin still cared, and he hoped that he somehow knew that the feeling was mutual. He just had to trust him.

It became too much, eventually. The tables had turned and Jon was now the one wringing his hands in concern over Martin’s well being. The lengths at which Martin was willing to estrange himself and how easily he did it had Jon worried, even then. When he saw a possible life raft to save both of them he wanted to cling to it, even if it meant setting them both adrift in the freezing sea. Blind themselves and escape together. 

Martin hadn’t taken it well, accusing Jon of using him as an excuse not to actually go through with it, because he supposedly knew Martin would say no. But that hadn’t been Jon’s intent. Sure, the suggestion had been rash. It was far from the love confession Jon had hoped to give, but the option to keep both of them safe, for them to be together, felt like it might be worth the risk, just like his current Orpheian bargain.

***

Jon continues alone on the path, over dunes and clutching his jacket around himself so it doesn’t blow away. The exit is still a long way off. Upon arrival into The Lonely he had made a frantic curving path trying to cover as much ground as he could in his search for Martin. He’s careful to follow his own steps again. Peter had told him not to stray from the path. 

“Jon...” he thinks he hears Martin’s voice again, a doppler of sound moving in front of him, out and away from his path. He looks distantly in that direction seeing if he can make out the familiar shape of him. The temptation to step off the path and follow the voice is great, but he realizes that he’s stopped moving forward. He needs to stop pausing to look around and focus on the task at hand. To get out of there. Jon takes a moment to retie his flyaway hair and compose himself. No more looking back.

_ I just have to walk out of here. I can do this. I have to do this for him. For us. _

And there it is,  _ us.  _ Martin and him. His brain had still been lukewarm and soupy from the emotionless fog of the Lonely when Martin had said he loved him. But now he is sure that he heard correctly, and finally having the clarity to feel all that entails, Jon lets it sink into his very soul.  _ Loved.  _ No one has ever said that to him before, not like this. 

But now Martin had and what Jon had long suspected was confirmed to be true. Without any pretext, and maybe even no hope of hearing the sentiment returned seeing how quickly he disappeared after the confession. 

_ It must be true then.  _

What had he even done to earn it?

He remembers the one and only time he spoke those words to someone and meant it. It was received with gratitude but apology. An event that ultimately ended up as an unremarkable footnote on the laundry list of reasons why he and Georgie didn’t work out. It was understandable, really, why she never felt it back. He knew that he never did anything that might actually merit it, from her or anyone else.

Martin should hate him, and maybe he does.  _ Loved _ , he keeps rolling the word over in his mind. Past tense. Perhaps it was only before. It was Jon’s fault that the Lonely took to him in the first place, and maybe Martin finally realized how little he had been worth it in the end. All the worry and isolation he had endured for Jon. Even after the mistreatment and negligence he had suffered at Jon’s own hands. He couldn’t possibly deserve Martin’s love after all that. But selfishly he still hoped that wasn’t truly the case. Martin must have seen something redeemable and worth loving in him, even if Jon couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

***

By now he’s whipped himself into an internal frenzy. Approaching the exit of the Lonely feels like a slow speed chase, anxiety following close behind. He moves at a steady pace, not wanting to risk breaking into a run in case Martin cannot move so quickly. 

Jon hasn’t heard his voice for a time now and the urge to call to him is almost unbearable. Doubt comes in and the wind changes directions. He’s not sure if Martin was ever following behind him to begin with.

_ Martin was never coming back with me. He told me as much, but I didn’t want to hear it. Martin chose this, because why would anyone choose me? Who am I to think that he would follow me back into the mess I’ve made? _

The people he cares about are gone, some he led to their deaths and some left of their own accord to avoid the same fate, and keeping Martin with him is surely a death sentence. He’ll find a way to get him killed. 

But the Lonely isn’t death and there’s still a chance to save him, so Jon will hold onto hope with both hands. 

But it's not just his decision now. Martin has to want it to. Want to come with him. To choose him after all. He knows that he is not the lesser of two evils.

The exit is in front of him now, a shimmering veil back into the world.

_ Talk to me. Please. Just let me know you’re with me. I understand why you might want to stay here, you might even be safer here. But allow me one more time to be selfish, because I want you out there. With me. _

The thoughts swirl inside him, it's too little late. Jon feels a rough gust push him toward the exit. He turns to look behind him one last time.

No one is there.

_ Even if this is what you chose, you deserve to know. I love you, too.  _

He opens his mouth to say it.

***

[Interlude: Hades]

[Before]

“I really loved you, you know.”

“Martin! Martin!” Jon calls, willing the faded specter of Martin to return. His head is swimming. There is a numbness brought on by the atmosphere here that feels like running in a dream. He knows the urgent need to keep shouting for Martin but feels a dullness in his senses creeping over him.

“ I tried to tell you. He’s gone. He made his choice. And it wasn’t you,” the voice of Peter Lukas taunts. It echoes, carried on the winds. Jon cannot tell which direction it comes from. 

“It was for me, though. I’m the reason he… I did this to him as much as you.” Jon feels the weight and the truth of it, just as he speaks the words aloud. A sunspot breaks through the lethargy. Martin loves him.  _ Loved  _ him. Cloud cover. This is where that love led him. 

“Yes. I suppose you did. Where are your friends, Archivist?” Peter asks, twisting a sharp pain in Jon’s chest.

“ Tim and Sasha are dead...Daisy and Basira are probably dead.”

“ Because. Of. You.” He’s not sure if that comes from Peter or in his own head.

“ Georgie and Melanie have left me.”

“ And?”

“ Martin’s gone,” admitting it is like a physical ache that spreads from his chest through his body. The sadness is almost overwhelming but it also feels like a cold bucket of water being dumped over him. The atmosphere is suddenly less stifling. He can start to make out a visible form in front of him. 

“ You’re alone, Archivist. The last one standing. I did warn you. I did want you to leave, but… perhaps it would be better if you stayed a while. After all. You can’t hurt anyone in here.” The windstorm has all but died and a man stands before him on the infinite stretch of beach.

“ Yes,” Jon says solemnly.

“ Yes,” Peter repeats in tempting agreement.

Jon moves to stand directly in front of the now solid form of Peter Lukas. “ Or perhaps you could answer some questions.”

“ …what?” Peter says in surprise, as Jon stares directly at him.

“ I wouldn’t try to leave if I were you. I can see you now. I can find you wherever you go. ”

“ Fine! It was just a thought. So leave.” Peter quickly backtracks. Jon knows that he has very few stakes left in this except,

“Not without Martin. And not without some answers. ” 

“ That’s not going to happen,” says Peter, starting to sound scared. They both know what comes next.

“Tell me your story, Peter Lukas.”

“No!”

“Tell me.”

And Compelled by the Archivist, he does: A lonely boy turned sailor. A failed Ritual. A bet.

“...So I suppose that’s probably why I reacted so rashly, trying to rip his victory away. Keep you here. But it looks like I might have underestimated my opponent once again.” Peter finishes, but Jon has new questions.

“ What was his prize? What did he get if you lost?”

“ Oh, he got you.”

This throws him.

“ I-I don’t understand,” Jon stutters, losing some of the control over the Compulsion.

“And you won’t. Not from me. I’m done.”

“ Tell me,” the power reignites through his words.

“ I’m… not saying… another… word,” says Peter, struggling against it.

“ Tell me, or I will rip it out of you.”

“ No…”

“ Answer my question!” he can sense a building pressure inside of Peter as he tries to tear the information from his lips. A pressure cooker without a release valve, about to explode.

“Wait! Stop! You can have him. Just stop!”

Jon hesitates, the Compulsion eases.

“I’ll let you leave with Martin.”

Jon is suspicious, this could just be a distraction. Or an outright lie. But Peter is a betting man, maybe he really does want to make a deal?

“Ok, but how?” asks Jon.

“Head back the way you came, I promise the exit will be open for you,” Peter gestures in a direction and Jon knows that the exit from the Lonely is there in the distance.

“But I won’t have you Compelling information from me. You will retrace your steps to the exit and no speaking, not even to Martin. Or else he stays. I’ll tell him you’re both free to leave. Do we have a deal?”

This gives Jon pause, he won’t even be able to speak to Martin? 

‘ _ It feels right. Nothing hurts here.’ _

“But what if Martin doesn’t follow me?”

“That’s not my problem, Archivist. I want you out, I won’t try to stop him from going, but he’s free to make his own decision. Do we have a deal?” Peter repeats more forcefully.

Jon sees that he has very few options. He’s willing to relinquish the chance at a piece of information that Peter seems more likely to die than divulge anyways. He’d give up much more to assure Martin’s safety. The authenticity of the offer is still questionable, but even so the supposed guarantee to leave and not have Martin held hostage seems like the only concessions he might get right now.

“Deal,” Jon agrees, holding out his scarred hand. Peter shakes it and disappears.

***

[Part 2: Eurydice]

Martin always knew he would fall on the sword of his love for Jon eventually. He had been bracing for it all along and was surprised by how little it hurt now. The numbness here is not new to him. He’d felt it before when he mourned for both his mother and Jon in quick succession, when he first began this slow death march of working for Peter Lukas. But against all odds Jon had come back once again, and Martin had renewed reason to carry on. That was gone now.

Outside, even if it had been dulled as of late, his caring instinct was never quite extinguished the way it was here inside the Lonely. Maybe that’s what made it feel so comfortable, so right. For once, there was no remorse for the indifference he was now feeling. There was no one he had to prove himself to. No fears, and no unrequited love. Just the smog of blunted emotions. When Jon eventually finds him it's surprisingly easy to speak the words aloud for the first time. 

“I really loved you, you know.” 

He’s unsure if he would have ever been able to say it if he hadn’t thought he would never see Jon again. He couldn’t bear to imagine the reply. 

Before now, Martin had always hoped that his actions might be enough to stand on their own. (He’s not sure they do.) That he’d never have to actually put voice to it and make it known in no uncertain terms. Because he does love Jon, and that in itself really is enough for him. Every action Martin had taken for him carried the message of that, without burdening Jon with the knowledge of what it really meant. And to him, that was fulfilling in itself. He hadn’t ever wanted Jon to feel that he owed Martin something in return, even a reply to his confession. That’s why he had hoped they could stay in that limbo of knowing/not knowing. Plausible deniability. Because if Jon knew for sure, and he didn’t feel the same, Martin’s not sure what he would do with himself then. Where he would be able to put all those feelings.

But here, they just evaporate into the mist. Now, even though Jon knew, he felt a strange neutrality to that. He lets himself fade into nothing there on the beach, the last of his emotions gone, set free with that final confession.

***

At the beginning, maybe it was because Jon had been so adamant to push him away. His mother had done the same, but he just clung tighter. If he just tried a  _ bit harder.  _ If he could be as accommodating as possible to keep them happy. He just needed to figure out how to be  _ enough _ . Good enough and kind enough, and above all useful enough to justify the space he occupied. Because otherwise, what was the point of him?

Then Jon was accused of murder and disappeared. And Martin knew he had to tamp down whatever blossoming thing had begun to grow inside him. He clearly hadn’t known Jon as well as he thought, he would get over whatever feelings he thought he had for someone he never actually knew. 

But Jon returned and Elias had revealed himself as the true villain, and Martin got to meet a different Jon. A little broken, but trying his damnedest to ask for help in the only ways he knew how. And Martin’s love for this Jon burst into bloom even fuller than what he had felt for the no nonsense boss he previously knew him as. Only, this time Martin didn’t feel like he had to work around the apathy and indifference to prove himself. Jon for the first time was being receptive and Martin could just be himself.

_ “ _ I thought you might be poisoning my tea, before.” Jon had admitted to him once.

“Don’t be silly. I would have baked the cyanide into the shortbread,” Martin replied. I

It was perfectly timed, as Jon was just taking a bite of the homemade biscuit. 

“It does give it a lovely almond flavour,” Jon shot back before stuffing another shortbread finger into his mouth. 

Martin laughed. It was so rare and wonderful to see Jon like this, casual banter and easy expression. He had a hidden sarcastic wit about him that perfectly matched Martin’s own. 

Jon looked at him as he laughed with an expression Martin had never seen on his face before, a soft fondness in his eyes, a slight quirk of his lips. He’d always hoped someone might look at him that way.

***

He can still see a man calling for someone and a subsequent confrontation with another person but he views it through a monochrome watercolour-y lens and can’t bring himself to care. He’s drifting out to sea, and feels like he’s forgotten something important. 

_ Why am I here, again? _

Martin turns his head toward the movement he is vaguely aware of in his periphery. Something slips back into place when he becomes aware of the two figures shaking hands. It's familiar. He knows them. He made a deal with a similar handshake once. A deal to keep someone safe. 

_ Jon. _

Some amount of awareness returns to him just as Peter confronts him. 

“You’re free to go. I won’t keep you, but I know you Martin. Wouldn’t you rather stay?” 

“I...”

What was he doing? Hadn’t he done all this for Jon. Of course he should go with him. 

_ Nothing hurts here. _

“No, I-I need to leave,” he says. His voice betrays his indecision.

Peter’s face is inscrutable. 

“Follow behind him, then.” Peter says, then more forcefully, “Go.” 

Martin scrambles over to where Jon is. He still appears blurry like a moving pencil sketch in front of him but he can tell Jon is looking around for him. 

“I’m here, Jon!” he tries to yell, but it sounds distant even as it comes out of his lips. The effort of shouting feels like wind ripping the words from his lungs. Jon doesn’t respond, but he turns and seems to look directly through him.

_ He can’t see me. Can he hear me? Why doesn’t he respond? _

“Peter, tell him I’m here!” he wheezes, he turns to where Peter was last standing, but there is nobody.

Jon has started his trek, so he quickly catches up and reaches out a hand to touch him. It passes through Jon’s shoulder like nothing. 

_ Jon please look at me,  _ he mouths. The words do not form. No air in his lungs. 

***

It had been surprisingly easy to keep away from Jon these previous months. The knowledge that he was alive and close by and safe were consolation enough. But Martin still felt the twinge of loss, he no longer had to mourn Jon’s death but he could feel that their connection now was tenuous at best. 

He allowed himself the boon of checking in on Jon in his office every once in a while, invisibly of course. He never let Peter know that he did this, but he now suspected that he might have known anyways and never tried to stop him, as the feeling of being so close to the one he loved yet so far away only helped to further Martin’s isolation and loneliness.

He often did it when Jon wasn’t recording statements. The strange possession that overtook Jon when he was reading them was unnerving to Martin in how unrecognizable he became as The Archivist. But sometimes Martin would sneak inside at the very end of the recording sessions just to see Jon’s face slide back into more familiar expressions. Always of worry or of grief at what he had just experienced through the statements. Martin began to recognize these emotions in the slightest crease of Jon's brow, the downward twitch at the corners of his mouth. He remembered the way Jon had looked at him once. It was unfortunate that now Martin only ever got to observe him in this negative light. He wanted to learn all of Jon’s expressions, the good and the bad.

There were also times where Jon would still seek him out, although Martin knew he would have to push him away. Yet he still laid clues for Jon to follow, he knew Jon was listening to his recordings. Sometimes he even left tea or biscuits in his office. It felt like trying to bring Jon close with one hand and push him away with the other. However, he had a task to complete, so he steeled himself and eventually told Jon to stay away from him. But even then, Jon persisted and Martin was no longer sure if he found this welcome or not. He needed Jon to trust that what he was doing would help them, would keep him safe.

***

He can see Jon clearly now. They continue walking, single file for a time. All the while Martin continues to try and communicate with him until,

“I’m here Jon!” he’s finally able to shout. He’s sure it came out that time, but he feels it being pulled away in the hurricane winds. Jon looks in the direction that the sound drifted.

_ He heard me. _

Jon pauses and Martin wonders if he’s about to speak. He doesn’t. Instead, Martin sees him take his hair down and pull the loose strands back away from his face. He rolls his shoulders in a tension releasing motion and his posture straightens, more determined. Jon doesn’t look behind him after that.

_ *** _

Jon came to him one last time to tell him about a plan to mutilate himself in order to escape the Institute. But something boiled over when he asked Martin to join him. For probably the first time, he was quite angry with Jon, who was telling him everything he’d always wanted to hear. That he trusts Martin above all others. That they could escape together. That he was there for him. This was the first time Jon seemed to acknowledge that he knew about Martin’s feelings for him but he was using them so that Martin would deny him martyrdom. Jon didn't actually want this, want him. How could he? 

The look Jon gave him as he left his office should have hurt him more, but it didn’t. Apathy was becoming a more and more familiar feeling to Martin and he was starting to see why Jon had wrapped himself in a shield of it, back before everything had really started falling apart around them. It was easier this way, if he could pretend not to care. He still felt a pang deep down. He had always been one to care too much, but the Lonely was taking its toll and dulled that guilt of not caring to a more bearable level. Even so, he still knew what he had to do to keep Jon and himself safe, and without the lasting bodily harm of blinding themselves. Jon, and Peter, and Elias shouldn't have underestimated him.

In the end it was all for naught. He had played right into Elias’s trap and his reward was being cast into the Lonely. He wished Jon hadn’t come in after him.

***

They walk for a long while. Footfalls like drums. Martin feels too winded to continue trying to get Jon’s attention to no avail. He wishes Jon would speak, wishes he could see his face clearly. As Martin marches forward and stares at the resolute posture of the man he loves, his mind wanders to the possibilities he had been trying not to consider. 

What if Jon is angry with him for getting himself in this mess in the first place? He’d played at being clever for once, trying to out deal the dealer, and this is how it ended up. He had proved his incompetence once again. Jon had offered him another way, but Martin thought he knew better. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Jon wouldn’t forgive him this. Maybe Jon had finally given up on him. 

It occurs to him, does Jon think that he’s leaving without him? He hasn’t called out for Martin even once, and hasn’t looked back since near the beginning of the hike.

_ Surely not. Jon wouldn’t do that.  _

But then again, Martin had told him he wanted to stay in the Lonely. Jon had been so persistent before, trying to pull him back before it was too late. Even when Martin had kept pushing him away. He’d finally succeeded in pushing him with both hands. Jon had recognized that he was too far gone. And maybe he is.

At least here, he can cast those feelings of regret at what might have been into the ocean. Not have to concern anyone, including himself, with them. How can loneliness be a fear if he wants it this badly? 

He feels some of the numbness creep back in, but tries to grasp at any threads of feeling he can still find. Something stirs.

_ Wait. No. _

This isn‘t what he wants at all. This apathy, this detachment. This isn’t who he is, quite the opposite.

_ Oh. _

The revelation rocks him to his very core. It wasn’t the suppression of feelings that drew him in, that was just a symptom. Martin had taken to the Lonely so easily because of its liminality. He realizes that he’s been using it as a safety net, willfully keeping himself ignorant. Here, he can remain stagnant, not knowing whether all of the feelings he had invested in Jon over so much time were returned. And he never will know. Unless he’s willing to take the risk of leaving the false comfort and safety of the Lonely behind. Back to a world of Fears. A place where his greatest fear might be confirmed. That he is indeed not enough. (That maybe he is.) That Jon doesn’t feel the same. 

(That maybe he does.)

A tape reel of emotions play for him, fast forwarding through all the feelings he had been suppressing these last few months. The good and the bad. He feels the panic and anxiety, but also love and above all, hope. The miasma smothering his mind is gone, replacing the indecision he felt with determination.

Jon walks steadfastly toward the exit. He still hasn’t turned around and Martin’s sure he thinks he’s alone.

_ Don’t leave me. I don’t want this. I love you. Even if you don’t feel the same I’m glad you know. I want to go with you. _

Jon finally turns around before heading through the exit. Martin cannot tell if Jon sees him but the look on his face is immediately recognizable. Worry and grief. He knows it's for him.

Jon looks like he’s about to say something. But before he can, Martin surges forward. This time his body is solid, and he collides with Jon, kissing him squarely on the lips. An action with no uncertain terms, that cannot be misinterpreted. 

They fall backward, back onto the stone floor of the Panopticon, out of the Lonely that closes behind them.

“It's you,” Jon says in shock and relief.

“It's me.”

Martin's eyes are shut tight and he buries his face in Jon’s shirt. He’s probably crushing Jon underneath him, but he can’t bear to leave this last liminal moment quite yet. To see the next emotion on Jon’s face, be it rejection or anger or pity.

“Look at me Martin.”

After a beat Martin opens his eyes. He lifts his head to look at Jon. The expression there is familiar. He’d seen it before over shortbread.

“I see you Jon.”

[Epilogue]

The final escape from the Panopticon and subsequent fleeing from London take precedence after that. A plan is formulated and they manage to catch a sleeper train at Paddington up to the Cairngorms. The first part of their journey is spent taking stock of their supplies and planning their next move. 

Finally, when they have settled into their sleeper car and there are no more precautions to take, they talk. Jon tells him what he learned and about his deal with Peter. His mounting fear that Martin didn’t want to follow him. In turn, Martin shares his thoughts about when he was in the Lonely but reassures Jon that he was with him every step of the way.

“Before the exit, you were going to say something...” says Martin.

They’ve settled together on the single bottom bunk of the otherwise empty sleeper cabin. Jon moves to put his arm around Martin. 

“I do understand why you might have wanted to stay there, and maybe you would have been safer. There's something coming, and it might be difficult from now on, but I’m glad you’ll be beside me Martin. I’m sorry if that’s selfish to want. You’ve already done so much for me and I don’t deserve you.” He inhales deeply, summoning just a little more courage, and looks Martin in the eyes. “I love you,” he says clearly

Martin pulls Jon even closer. He never expected to have this and he’s basking in the absolute uncontained joy he feels now that he does. 

“It was all worth it, just to hear you say that,” and Martin realizes that he really means it.

“I love you, too. Thank you for coming to get me.”

***

The train pulls into the platform in the early hours of the morning and they disembark with their few bags. The safehouse is a long trek from the train station in Aviemore. 

They walk it side by side, hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Figuring out the whole coding thing just to get the text to wrap around my images was a whole time and a half! I haven't drawn in a very long time and I'm still getting back into the swing of it but writing/illustrating this fic was a nice little project to get me through another week of quarantine.


End file.
